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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856807">The Cousland Twins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/irhinoceri/pseuds/irhinoceri'>irhinoceri</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Few Against The Wind [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Cousland (Dragon Age) Backstory, Cousland (Dragon Age) Being an Asshole, Cousland (Dragon Age) is not a Grey Warden, Family Drama, Gen, Human Noble (Dragon Age) Origin, Implied/Referenced Threesome - MMF, Minor Character Death, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), POV Cousland (Dragon Age), Sibling Rivalry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:00:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,636</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27856807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/irhinoceri/pseuds/irhinoceri</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aedan and Elissa Cousland are absorbed in their own lives and have no idea their entire world is about to go up in flames. A look at the twins' lives before, during, and immediately after the fall of Highever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Amell &amp; Female Surana (Dragon Age), Female Cousland &amp; Female Amell (Dragon Age), Female Cousland &amp; Female Surana (Dragon Age), Female Cousland &amp; Male Cousland (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We Few Against The Wind [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Elissa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Grey Wardens arrived at Highever Castle while it was awash in a flurry of activity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Preparations for war were well underway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had time for the Wardens, so they were foisted off onto the younger children of Teyrn Cousland, who were to be left in charge of the castle while their parents and elder brother were away at war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan Cousland was known to be the lesser version of his brother Fergus in almost every way. A few years younger, a few inches shorter, not so skilled with the blade or inspiring as a leader. A second son in every way imaginable. But that was not so bad a thing, for being just shy of a great warrior still gained one the reputation of being a good warrior, and the Grey Wardens knew they wouldn’t be getting Fergus, the Heir to Highever. So, the second best it would have to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa watched them all closely, silently, as was her role whenever Aedan was involved. She was the only daughter of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland and she did not consider herself a lesser version of either of her brothers. But Aedan needed to cast a shadow, just as Fergus’s shadow was cast on him, and Elissa knew her twin brother’s moods well enough to know that upsetting him in front of the Grey Wardens would make their time overseeing the castle together an unpleasant one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was not a warrior like her father and brothers, or even her mother, who was a raider’s daughter and had once terrorized the Waking Sea during the rebellion against the Orlesians. No. The blade was not for her. Elissa Cousland considered herself an artist and a scholar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By her current age of 21 she had read all the books in the Highever castle library, which was no small feat, for their collection was vast and old. To otherwise fill her days she sketched, painted, embroidered, wove, and played a variety of instruments, though she favored the harp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa had been betrothed to the eldest son of her father’s friend, the Arl of Amaranthine, since infancy. Nathaniel Howe was nine years her senior and they had been betrothed when he was a boy and she a newborn. There was no romance in the arrangement. She had not seen him in eight years, not since she was a girl of 13 and he a young man of 22, when he left his family to be squired to a Knight in Starkhaven across the Waking Sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was little more than a stranger, an idea remembered but vaguely. She did write to him semi-regularity, though it was seldom that she received a response. Sometimes it felt like she was keeping a journal and mailing it into the void. His letters, when they came, were polite and indifferent, but this did not trouble Elissa, for he was so much older than her and they had barely known each other before he left for the Free Marches. It would have been odd for him to write love letters to a girl, even knowing that one day in the future when he returned to Ferelden, to Amaranthine, she would be his wife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having been spoken for all her life, and having seen very little of the man her parents decided she would marry, Elissa did not pursue any of her interests with an eye towards being marriageable. Everything she did was because she liked to do it. She sketched pictures of life at Highever and sent them in her letters to Nathaniel, but it was done more as a way to fill the pages, to communicate, than to model her skills for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her parents were proud of her. She was quite used to being shown off by her family to guests; a most accomplished, intelligent daughter. She was indifferent towards the noblemen and their heirs who visited Highever, as she felt no need to impress anyone, her future secure. That security and the ease of mind it gave her was better than romance, in its own way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>None of her skills were of any interest to the Grey Wardens, an order of warriors whose only concern was for battling darkspawn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan joked openly to the Wardens about how useless she was. She pretended not to be bothered by his dismissal, for she knew that their parents would never have left Aedan in charge of the castle by himself. She would be indispensable when they were gone. They knew that she understood how to oversee the maintenance of Highever far better than her brother did. She would not flaunt that fact in front of the Wardens, however; they did not need to bear witness to the Cousland twins bickering and sniping at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan often accused her of being vain and useless, seeing little merit in the way she filled her days, and being jealous of their parents’ affection and pride. Elissa did not take any of his words to heart. He had the artistic flair of a turnip and had no aptitude for anything beyond playing at war in the courtyard with the men-at-arms, and so she thought he had a funny definition of useless. All he did day in and day out was wreak havoc for the servants with his poorly trained mabari hound, and try to seduce the handmaidens of any noble lady who visited the castle. The serving women and elves who worked in the castle, and the ladies-in-waiting who attended Eleanor and Elissa, knew Aedan too well to succumb to his charms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though his twin sister had been betrothed to Howe’s heir since birth, Aedan was betrothed to no one. As the second son, there had been no great need for the Couslands to make him a match. Fergus was married and had a son who would one day inherit Highever, so Aedan was left to be as free with himself as he wished. So far had shown no interest in finding a wife or making a life for himself beyond his family’s home. Elissa thought he was scared, for all his talk of wanting to emerge from Fergus’s shadow and prove himself every bit the man his brother was. There was more to life than swordplay and womanizing, but Aedan had not yet realized this, even as he often told Elissa there was more to the world than her books and music.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth be told, neither thought the other capable, which probably did not bode well for their impending stint as the Lord and Lady of Highever. Elissa felt a keen sense of worry over being left at home due to the Blight. This would be the first time that Bryce, Eleanor and Fergus were all gone and the twins were left in charge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa might have welcomed the task, viewing it as valuable practice for the future when she would be the Arlessa of Amaranthine, but the Blight and the call to arms made the whole situation feel far more perilous than it otherwise would have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would have preferred it if her parents had given them this responsibility while they went on a second honeymoon, a tour of the Free Marches, perhaps, rather than marching south to face a horde of darkspawn. Even then, Aedan was not the person with whom she would have chosen to run a castle, even during the best of times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rumblings of a Blight in the Korcari Wilds reached Highever, it had been troubling, but exciting as well. Generations had grown up hearing stories about the old Blights, but it had been four hundred years since the last, and so there was something unreal, mythological, about the whole ordeal. The Couslands had not expected to live through this ancient calamity. And they had certainly not expected to find Grey Wardens in their halls, looking for recruits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa, from her silent station at Aedan’s side, drew her own conclusions about the Grey Wardens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d read everything there was to know about the Wardens, or at least, everything that was in the Highever library about them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew that their base of operation was far away in the Anderfels, and that each country in Thedas had its own branch of the Order which operated largely independent of Weisshaupt Fortress. The Fereldan Wardens were a relatively small part of the order, as they had been banned from Ferelden for years and only regained a standing there around twenty years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But though she had read much about them, these were the first real live Wardens she had even seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their leader, the Warden-Commander, was a man in his forties, who had the look of a Rivaini but spoke with an accent that gave him away as Fereldan, likely native to the Highever area. She spoke up to inquire where he was from, to see if her suppositions were correct, and he confirmed it for her. Ser Duncan of the Grey Wardens had been born to a carpenter, a Rivaini transplant who married a Ferelden woman and lived just outside Highever town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His second was a young man with an uncanny resemblance to King Cailan. Elissa had stared at him for a while, puzzling over where she had seen his face before, and then it came to her—she had spent some time practicing her painting by copying a portrait of the King. It was a royal portrait done on black velvet some years ago, soon after the King’s coronation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reality of noble bastards was an accepted part of life, so this curiosity about the young warden did not linger long in Elissa’s mind. Most kings, going by what she had read in the history books, had several mistresses and unclaimed bastards hidden away. Her own parents had a happy, closed marriage, and she did not think that either of them had lovers, or other children, but one might never really know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The favored mistresses of the nobility were often given their own homes for the lords to visit, away from their legitimate families, and the children of such unions had to eventually be put somewhere as they could not inherit. City watches, honor guards, and the Chantry were all common repositories for natural born sons and daughters of arls, banns, teyrns, and kings. The Grey Wardens, she supposed, provided another likely order to get rid of spare children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would have asked outright, like she did of Ser Duncan, to see if her suspicion about Warden-Ensign Alistair was true, but she knew enough to understand that that would be incredibly rude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two Wardens brought a handful of recruits along with them: a knight who had recently distinguished himself at the tourney in Highever town, and two mages from the Circle at Kinloch Hold. Both mages were young women; one was a human, the other an elf. Highever had once had a court mage, sent to them by appointment from Kinloch Hold, but he had been quite old and after his death they had not replaced him. The pair of young women that came to Highever with the Wardens were the first mages Elissa had ever met who were not ancient old men on death’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it became apparent that Aedan could not be persuaded to join the Grey Warden ranks, Ser Duncan asked to meet with Ser Roderick Gilmore, whom Bryce had recommended as a skilled man-at-arms. Aedan agreed to introduce them, and he took Ser Duncan, Alistair, and Ser Jory out to where the soldiers and Fergus were preparing for the journey to Ostagar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That left Elissa alone to entertain the young mages. With Aedan and the other men out of the way, Elissa was free to speak up and be herself, an opportunity she seized upon to inquire about life within the Circle of Magi and now the order of Wardens. They could not tell her much about the Wardens, having just been recruited themselves, and there was a tension between them when it came to how they spoke of the Circle. Elissa sensed it right away. The elf, Nelmirea Surana, spoke of it as a prison she was glad to be away from. The human, Solomae Amell, looked sad and called it home, saying she hadn’t wanted to leave and become a Warden but had been forced out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Wardens forced you to join? By the Right of Conscription?” Elissa asked, proud that she knew about the ancient law that allowed the Wardens to recruit whomever they wished, whenever they wished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather not talk about it,” said Solomae. “But yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ser Duncan rescued her from her own stupidity,” said Nelmirea, and Elissa was shocked at the brazen way she rebuked her fellow mage. If she had wanted to she might have contradicted everything Aedan said and insulted him, but that was something siblings did behind closed doors, not when speaking to guests, hosts, or strangers. Perhaps the mages were not so fraternal as she had imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> stupidity?” Solomae huffed. “You’re the reason I was in trouble—consorting with blood mages, drawing me into your conspiracies, tainting my reputation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a snitch. Don’t cry to me that your precious Circle would see you made Tranquil just for knowing a friend of a blood mage,” Nelmirea said acerbically. “Where’s the justice in that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve read of blood mages,” Elissa interjected. “But I thought that those in the circle were taught to avoid such dark magics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are,” Solomae sniffed, “but some people can’t help themselves, they don’t care if they give all mages a bad reputation, they don’t care if they’re the reason mages need to be kept apart from the rest of the world and guarded by templars. They care for nothing but their own selfish desire and they don’t care who they hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know the first thing about it,” shot back Nelmirea. “Jowan cared about Lily. They just wanted to be free, and happy. That shouldn’t be a crime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that’s all he wanted, why the blood magic, then? I can’t believe you’re still defending him. He betrayed your trust and got us both expelled. Maybe he cared about Lily but he sure as hell didn’t care about you, his so-called best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t mean to get me into trouble. We wouldn’t have gotten caught if it wasn’t for you! Still, I’m fine with how things turned out,” Nelmirea insisted. “I don’t ever have to go back to the Circle. I’m free.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Free? Is this what you call freedom? We’re enslaved to the Grey Wardens, and we have to go throw ourselves into battle against monsters. I never wanted that. I liked the Tower. I was safe there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an idiot. No one is safe in the tower, with Templars ready to murder you if you sneeze too loudly. Did you feel safe when they dragged us out of bed for the Harrowing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I passed the Harrowing easily! I was never in any danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky you. Or not so very lucky after all, since despite being more perfect than anyone else, they were still ready to Tranquilize you for no good reason at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa began to regret bringing up such a touchy topic. Though she found it interesting, she began to fear that the two mages would come to blows before the other Wardens returned, and she didn’t want to have two magic users fighting in the drawing room before she was even officially in charge of Highever. Her mother hadn’t even left yet! She quickly moved to diffuse the situation, saying, “Well, it sounds like a very complicated matter. I am sure there is some truth to be found in both perspectives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf gave her a sneer that was half disgust and half surprise, as if she’d momentarily forgotten Elissa was even there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa did the only thing she could think of. She stood up and said, “Come, let me show you the gallery. There are several portraits of historical interest and some of my own humble work. My parents are terribly indulgent to let me hang my silly little landscapes next to priceless masterpieces by the greats of Fereldan art. I am sure you will have a laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t ask if they wanted to follow her or if they were interested in viewing her art. She just strode towards the doors to the hallway and flung them open. If one did not give people a choice in the matter she found that they seldom had the temerity to object. Both mages seemed quite strong-headed, but that just meant she had to be especially firm and not give them any room to disagree.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her guests followed, having gone sullenly silent. She noticed them casting glances at each other, clearly thinking of ways to continue the argument, but Elissa chose to chatter on as they walked. She could not even remember, later, what she had talked about. Meaningless prattle to fill the silence and be distracting, that was all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It served her well. She gave them a tour of the gallery and then led them to the library, where she boasted of having read all the books and learned all the things Highever could teach. Solomae, still stinging from her compatriot’s rebuke, said that the Kinloch Hold library was easily five times the size and that if ever Elissa grew bored with knowledge of Highever she might send to First Enchanter Irving and request a loan. It seemed a generous offer on the surface, but Elissa recognized the passive aggression in her tone and the dismissive way she compared the Circle’s library to Highever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may do just that,” said Elissa, cheerfully, refusing to rise to the bait. She was determined to be gracious to the point of banality for the duration of the Wardens’ visit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was rather disappointed in the first young mages she had ever met. All that arcane knowledge, that great big library, a youth devoted to the study and mastery of magic, and for all that, their infighting was as viciously petty as she and Aedan when they were children of ten. And even at ten, neither she nor her brother would have put on such a display in front of someone they’d just met, and certainly not in the home of someone they were visiting. Really. Perhaps there was truth to the Chantry’s claims that mages were unstable and needed guarding at all times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They returned to the drawing room, though Elissa asked if they wanted to go outside and seek out the Wardens. “Or I could have tea served,” she had added, and both mages chose tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’ll see enough of the men on the road,” Solomae said. “And smell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa laughed, thinking that perhaps Solomae was not so bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She called for tea to be served, ringing a bell and waiting for a servant to appear. “Please bring the tray of elderberry scones Cook prepared this morning,” she instructed, and the young elven servant curtsied and left silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the servants I’ve seen in Highever are elves,” Nelmirea observed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Elissa said, surprised that she found it worth mentioning. “We are the largest single employer of the elves in the Highever alienage,” she added, proudly, then thought to ask, “Where do you come from, originally? Highever? Denerim?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Highever,” said Nelmirea, coolly. “My mother and father worked in the castle. I never had the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleasure</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Got taken away to the circle before that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I see,” Elissa said. “Well, perhaps your parents still work here, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nelmirea looked away and replied, “I haven’t seen them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A shame. My mother knows the names of all the elves who’ve worked here in the past thirty years, so she would probably know if they were still employed here, but she’s busy preparing for the march south to Ostagar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa paused, noting the practiced detachment in the elf’s voice and the way she gazed at something in the near distance, tilting her face away. Elissa glanced at Solomae, who just gave her a blank stare in return. “Well,” Elissa said, “I could check the ledgers. Mother keeps a very detailed account of all the salaries and such. What did you say your surname was, again? Surana?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf’s head swiveled around and the large green eyes which met hers were genuinely surprised. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could check. I’m to be in charge of the castle ledger while Mother is away, so she has already given over the keys,” Elissa explained, with no small amount of pride. It was the first time in her life she had ever been trusted with her mother’s keyring, with keys to all the doors in the castle as well as lock boxes and cabinets that held important artifacts and documents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She led the mages back to the drawing room and told them to wait. Then she went to the study and cycled through the keyring before finding one that opened the correct desk drawer. It took another key to unlock the book itself, and Elissa flipped through the records, looking for any recent payments to anyone bearing the surname Surana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found nothing, going back several months, and sighed. It would have been more impressive to come back with something concrete. But if she went looking back through several years worth of ledgers to find the last time a Surana had been employed at the castle, she would be there all day, and she did not want to leave the Warden mages alone for long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She returned to the drawing room. Everything was intact and there were no scorch marks anywhere, and neither mage had turned into an abomination, so apparently they had not resumed their infighting. Tea and scones had been laid out in Elissa’s absence, and the mages were already devouring the pastries without waiting for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry,” she said. “I found no recent records of a Surana being employed here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nelmirea nodded when she heard the news, as if she’d expected nothing less, and said, “Thank you for checking, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you come from Highever town just recently?” Elissa asked. “You did not get a chance to visit the alienage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Nelmirea. “There wasn’t time for that. We camped outside the city and only stayed long enough to view the tourney and recruit Ser Jory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, quite,” Elissa said, emptily. The idea of being taken from her parents as a child and not even knowing what had become of them in the intervening years caught her unawares and filled her with a sudden sadness. “What of your parents?” she asked Solomae. “Do you still have contact with them? I always imagined that mages were at least able to write to their families.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solomae shrugged. “My father stopped writing to me, eventually.” She paused to take a sip of tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile played on her lips. “When my oldest brother came into his magic it caused something of an upheaval. I’m from Kirkwall, originally. My brother was taken to the Gallows—that’s what they call the Circle there. My mother made a dreadful fuss, as if Daylen was the only one of her children she cared about at all. There were four of us besides him, but she disappeared when he was taken, didn’t even say goodbye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s dreadful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I suppose so. We thought she might have tried to break into the Gallows and free Daylen and the Templars killed her, or something like that, but it’s just as possible that she dashed herself against the rocks and was lost to the Waking Sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa was appalled at the casual, callous way Solomae recounted the story, a small wry smile never leaving her lips, even as she talked about maternal suicide in between sips of tea. “Do you keep in touch with your siblings, at least?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solomae did not elaborate, and Elissa did not press her. It seemed all conversational roads led to tender topics with these two, and the only way to avoid it was to stick to speaking about herself, like some ill-bred self-absorbed ninny. Elissa found that entertaining guests was far more taxing than it had ever seemed before. Things were much simpler when her mother was the main hostess and she was just the favored daughter asked to play a song she’d learned or show off a dress she had sewn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was rescued by the return of Aedan, Ser Duncan and the other Wardens. They came in from outside and Duncan asked if the mage recruits had behaved themselves, to which Elissa graciously told him they had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he said, and nodded towards Alistair meaningfully, as if adding an unspoken word to a conversation they’d had before. Alistair just shrugged back, continuing the mute exchange, though Elissa could guess it had something to do with the volatile nature of the mages and their propensity to argue and insult one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at Alistair again and thought back to the portrait of the King. When they had been in the gallery earlier, Elissa had pointed out the velvet portrait of King Cailan and suggestively asked if he looked at all familiar to the mages. Nelmirea had shrugged and Solomae had just said, “Well that’s King Cailan, obviously. We’ve got the same portrait hanging up at the Circle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do?” Nelmirea asked. “Huh. I never noticed it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of them had mentioned their fellow Warden, and Elissa had ruefully known that it would be impolitic to press the issue. She would not be the one to start the rumor. It would be uncouth. If Alistair had been with them at that time she might have cast a surreptitiously pointed look his way, as a hint to the others, but she could not very well drag them all back into the gallery at this point. Her mother would have been horrified at such antics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a sad day, Lissa,” said Aedan, cheerfully, upon their return from the courtyard. “Ser Roderick has agreed to join the Grey Wardens. He’s leaving us for good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sure he will make a fine Grey Warden,” Elissa said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is certainly our hope, my lady,” said Duncan gravely. She inclined her head in silent acknowledgement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan went on talking then, and she was surprised to find that she was glad her brother was back, taking up all the space in the room, and she could retreat into the background. If she was to be Arlessa of Amaranthine one day, she realized, she would have to get more used to being the hostess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the eyes of the young warden, Alistair, upon her, and felt strangely uncomfortable, though she knew that such a feeling was hypocritical, as she had been studying him and pondering his heritage. She hoped he did not mistake her interest for something more meaningful, as young men so often did. It sometimes took speaking pointedly about her betrothed in impossibly glowing terms to put a young man off if he got it into his head that she found him attractive. Just last summer a friend of Aedan’s had become convinced he could play the romantic hero and sweep her off her feet, rescuing her from an arranged marriage he perceived as draconian and dull. Elissa had been chagrined, but Aedan had found it all marvelously funny until his friend proposed elopement to her, in utter seriousness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, it hardly mattered what Alistair was thinking, as he was a Grey Warden soon to be off on a quest to defeat the darkspawn and end the Blight. Grey Wardens probably didn’t even have romances or get married, though some might find their short and violent lives appealing in a tragic sort of way. If she had enjoyed that sort of thing she might have taken the opportunity to engage in some meaningless flirtation, knowing that he would soon be gone, and there would be no repercussions. But she did not want to encourage him to even contemplate her in such a light. She made a point not to so much as look at him again, not even to speculate on his similarity to the King.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Aedan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aedan Cousland woke in the night between two lovers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iona, the handmaiden to his mother’s friend, Lady Landra Loren, was snuggled against his chest. She had been in his bed every night for the past week. Though she had to spend much of her time attending to her Lady, Aedan had charmed her into spending her spare moments in his company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was initially shy and soft-spoken, but he’d been able to draw her from her shell by questioning her about herself and showing interest in what she had to say, particularly about her daughter who lived back in the alienage in Denerim. She said she had no time for romance, but he assured her that he had no intention of complicating her life, and only wanted to color the grey lines of monotony that responsibility drew around them with some pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considered himself a man of his word. The first night she had shyly knocked on his door, after everyone else was asleep and she could slip away from her charge unnoticed, he had focused solely on her needs, giving her a much needed release. She had gladly visited him for more every night thereafter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Landra’s son, Dairren, lay pressed against his back, one arm draped across his waist and the other tucked underneath him, spooning him, breath tickling the back of his neck. The young Lord Loren had not been coaxed into joining the fun until that night, hemming and hawing over the respectability of such actions. But once he’d gathered the courage to show up, he’d acquitted himself admirably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lady Landra would be leaving as soon as Eleanor departed for the south, taking her son and handmaiden with her. That was set to happen as soon as Arl Howe’s men finally showed up. Bryce and Eleanor would ride down to Ostagar with Howe to meet up with Fergus and the Highever forces. Lady Loren would return to her own castle, and Aedan’s bed would become colder at night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was not really looking forward to the time spent in charge of his family’s castle. There was not much to be in charge of, there only being a skeleton garrison to guard the walls and a small fraction of the servants remaining. Aedan would rather have ridden down to Ostagar at the head of the army, because that’s what he had been training for all his life. Battle, not sitting at home on his thumbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the second son, ruling a castle had never been in the cards for him. It was more than ironic to him that Fergus, the heir to Highever, should lead their armies instead. Let Fergus stay with his wife and child and be the man of the castle, preparing for his future as the Teyrn of Highever after Bryce. Aedan wanted to fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had made this argument to his father and lost. It had made him almost cross enough to join up with the Wardens, who came looking for recruits, but in the end he had once again bowed to his father’s wishes. He had spent his whole life in Fergus’s shadow and it seemed that every time he had the opportunity to escape, his father stepped in and forbade it. Bryce seemed to think that this assignment was an honor, was a chance for Aedan to prove himself, but prove what, exactly, Aedan didn’t know. Prove that he could accept a duty he was ill-suited for?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were many times when he had been on the verge of enlisting in the King’s army or joining the Templar order, both common career choices for second sons. But his mother complained about him leaving home too soon, saying he was still so very young and did not have to commit to anything just yet, and his father had agreed, so he had stayed, a fledgling bird unable to leave the nest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only real freedom he ever felt, beside the time spent training with the men-at-arms, was in pursuing the pleasures of the flesh. He possessed a worn copy of “The Art of Passionate Love” by Brother Capria, a text which had been outlawed by the Chantry and which he had read front to back several times since he had found it in the Highever study as a boy. The collection in the study had belonged to his grandfather, Teyrn William, but Aedan didn’t dwell overmuch on the dog-eared book having once informed his grandparents’ lovemaking. Sex was part of life and he was not shy about it, like so many others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, there was nothing from within those pages he had not yet tried. He was aware he’d started to gain a reputation, at least among the serving men and ladies-in-waiting, but he didn’t care. He’d yet to find anyone, man or woman, who regretted his company after finding their way into his bed. He was free to explore whatever proclivities he wanted without fearing that he was shirking any duty. He had no wife, like Fergus, and no betrothed, like Elissa, and he did not think he ever would have cause to find himself in such a traditional arrangement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone like Dairren had to be discreet, for he was the son and heir of Lord Loren, and his mother was actively searching for a wife. She had spent some time in the spring trying to convince Teyrna Cousland to break off the betrothal between Elissa and Nathaniel Howe to ally their children instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan could have laughed, knowing how futile such scheming was. Their parents would never do anything to make Elissa unhappy, and his twin sister was quite happy with her situation—promised to a man she never had to actually deal with. It didn’t matter to her if she was thirty years old before Nathaniel deigned to return from the Free Marches long enough to marry her, make her Arlessa of Amaranthine, and then ideally never speak to her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Aedan relished his freedom to bed as many and as varied a partner as he could, Elissa loved her freedom to ignore all potential suitors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he, Iona, and Dairren had exhausted themselves in the art of passionate lovemaking, they had fallen asleep and should have stayed that way until morning. But Calenhad—the mabari hound who had been his loyal companion since childhood—left his cushion by the fireplace and was scratching and growling at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Iona who got out of bed to go open the door to let the dog out. Aedan was still half asleep, warm and comfortable, eyes barely opening to register that Iona was slipping from his embrace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iona opened the door and an arrow buried itself in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That woke him up. Aedan stumbled out of bed and flung the door shut, hearing the thud of several arrows hitting the wood. He barred the door quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iona was bleeding out on the floor, the arrow lodged in her chest, choking on blood as she tried to speak. She was dead within seconds, before Aedan had even finished barring the door, but it seemed hideously to go on forever, that gurgling. He was only vaguely aware of Dairren getting out of bed and going to kneel beside Iona. Dairren said something, babbling in horrified shock, but Aedan didn’t register a word of it. He was operating on instinct, now, focused on throwing on some clothes and grabbing weapons the door could be breached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had his sword and shield in the room, because they were his prized possessions. His mind raced as he dressed quickly, listening to the sound of thudding against the door. They, whoever in Andraste’s name they were, were now banging on the door trying to get in. Whoever they were they wanted him dead, so that was all that mattered. The only thought his shocked and groggy mind could muster was darkspawn, because that’s what was happening, wasn’t it? A Blight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled another sword off the wall and said to Dairren, “She’s dead. Leave her. We need to get out of here before we’re dead too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dairren was not a warrior, but all noblemen had at least some training with swords in Ferelden. He gulped and stood up shakily, taking the sword from Aedan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” he asked. “Are we under attack?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems that way. Get your clothes on. I have some spare armor that might fit you. It will have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan waited at the door, his shield up and his sword at the ready, his feet planted in the widening pool of Iona’s blood. The door could not last long. It was just a bedchamber door, not a heavily fortified outer door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wood gave way finally, and in rushed a pair of soldiers. Not darkspawn, then. He killed both of them, not even needing Dairren’s help, and only after they were dead did he pause to register the fact that their shields and livery bore the colors and signs of House Howe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night only got worse from then on out. He left his room, Dairren flanking him, and they found his mother and Elissa in the hall. Eleanor had been roused by the sounds of attack and had dressed in her old raider uniform, which she had gotten out of storage to join her husband on the march to Ostagar. She held two daggers like she’d never put them down, never turned from her battlemaiden days to raise a family and oversee a castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had gone to Elissa first, because of course she had. Aedan knew which child his mother loved the most. He had always known.</span></p><p>
  <span>Elissa was wearing her riding clothes, stylish jodhpurs and a leather corset that was for looks only. It would not be sturdy enough to act as true armor. But it was the closest thing she had to rugged wear. His sister didn’t enjoy outdoor pursuits. She didn’t even enjoy family picnics on the coast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was steel in Eleanor’s gaze, but Elissa looked like she was completely undone by whatever she’d witnessed up to that point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eleanor confirmed what he already suspected, that the castle was under attack by the full force of Howe’s army. With just a small skeleton crew left to guard Highever, it was totally vulnerable. The few Highever men-at-arms who remained were no match, and Howe’s soldiers were sweeping the castle, slaughtering indiscriminately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d killed Fergus’s wife and child already, Eleanor revealed, and she had seen dead servants. No one was too high or too low to escape death. Lady Landra was likely a victim as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dairren did not accept this grim assessment. He said he had to go find his mother, and Eleaner warned him sternly that they could not risk venturing to the guest quarters now. That part of the castle was already overrun with Howe’s men. Eleanor did not ask why Dairren had not been in the guest chambers with his mother to begin with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dairren would not listen. “If you won’t go with me I’ll go by myself. I’m not leaving without my mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dairren,” Aedan said, trying to keep his voice patient and reasonable, “There’s no sense in dying with her. Think of your father, do you want him to lose a wife and son in one night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never face my father again if I abandoned her,” Dairren said, his voice shaking, his knuckles white on the hilt of the sword.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have time for this,” said Eleanor. “We must go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan was faced with two options. One: Go with Dairren, try to protect him from his folly, stay by his side long enough to confirm whether or not Lady Loren was still alive. Two: obey his mother, stay with her and his sister, escape the castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Aedan really wanted was vengeance, he wanted to run through the castle striking down every Howe man he found. He wanted to find Rendon Howe himself and twist his sword slowly into the man’s gut. He wanted to ride to Amaranthine and burn Vigil’s Keep the ground. He wanted to sail over the Waking Sea to find Nathaniel in Starkhaven and kill him as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eleanor had different priorities. Protecting her children, finding her husband, and escaping was the only thing on her mind. Aedan did as he was told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Dairren run off down a different hall, towards the guests quarters, all alone, and felt a prick of shame that he did not care more about him. The man who had just been in his bed was going to die alone. And all he could think was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan hadn’t felt anything besides shock and alarm when he witnessed Iona’s death. They were both playthings, distractions, and though he had never wished them dead, he could not waste time and energy mourning them now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all his issues with them, his family was more important. His mother and sister were more important. Dairren needed to go to his mother, and Aedan needed to stay with his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How soon that, too, would change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between him, his mother, and his hound, they must have killed a dozen of Howe’s men by the time they found Father in the pantry. Bryce was gravely wounded and would bleed out before they could find help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the end of the line for the Lord and Lady of Highever. Aedan was forced to leave his parents there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ordered to leave them there. To abandon them to death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father was dying and his mother was determined to die by her husband’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to leave, you have to survive,” she told her twins. “Aedan, you must protect your sister. Do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he understood. Elissa was weak. She was useless in a fight. But she was his sister and he was meant to protect her with his life. That knowledge had been hammered into him by Fergus as his older brother had trained him to be a fighter, a warrior like him. Fergus said that being a knight was all about honor and defending the helpless. Such burdens started at home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His entire life was narrowed down to protecting one spoiled girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan did not resent his sister, not exactly. He resented certain things about her, though—the praise she always got from their parents for doing nothing besides being a girl, and the fact that it had long seemed to him that her life would always be easy, others taking care of her every need. She was petty and vain and smug about her “accomplishments,” the impractical things she frittered away her days doing because she’d never had to learn a real skill. She’d never have to make something of herself, because unlike him she had her future secured by the marriage pact their parents had signed with the Howes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things changed, though. Everything was changing. There was no question that the marriage to Nathaniel Howe was off. Elissa’s future was just as insecure as his, now. They were orphaned, homeless, and powerless. And that was only if they lived through the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fled the castle as their parents instructed. Let it never be said that the Cousland twins were willful or disobedient children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ran through the night until it began to rain. Aedan held a torch to light their way, but the rain threatened to squelch its fire, and there was no way they could find their way through the forest without it. This was a proper stormcoast downpour, the heavens opening angrily upon them, as if Howe had magicked even the clouds to conspire to stamp out the Cousland family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found what shelter they could under an outcropping of rock, and shivered there in the damp as the water bounced off the cliff above them. Rivulets of water, filtered through moss, ran down the stone and pooled to make the ground wet beneath them. They huddled together, and Elissa was crying, and maybe he was crying too. They were both so wet from the rain one could hardly tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll kill them,” he said, teeth chattering, brushing wet hair from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not killing anyone. We’re going to die out here. We’ll never even make it till morning,” Elissa said, shivering violently. “We should have just stayed in the castle and died with Mother and Father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to argue with her, just out of habit, but he remained silent. Truth be told he rather agreed, at least about staying in the castle and fighting. Between him and Mother they could have taken quite a few men down. But he didn’t want to die. A small cowardly part of him was grateful that his mother had tasked him with protecting his sister, because it gave him a reason to flee while still retaining some dignity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was no dignity to be found in the forest in the rain in the dark. They held onto each other for warmth, closer than they’d been since the womb, and hoped the cold didn’t kill them before Howe got the chance. Calenhad was sandwiched between them, and Aedan was grateful for the solid furnace that was the stout dog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain gave him enough time to decide what they were going to do. If they lived, they had to get south and find Fergus. Fergus must be told what had happened. Aedan had no idea what Howe was planning next. Maybe his forces would stay at Highever to defend his stolen castle, or perhaps that wasn’t his plan at all. Perhaps he planned to raze Highever to the ground and leave it uninhabitable and march south to exterminate Fergus. But that seemed highly unlikely. Fergus had several days head start and was heading to meet up with the King’s army.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely the King had nothing to do with this? Cailan would never sanction such an attack on the Couslands. Never. Howe must be insane to think he could get away with this in the long term. He must be counting on no news of his treachery reaching the armies at Ostagar or the other nobles before the sacking of Highever could be blamed on the darkspawn. Or perhaps he had some other lie cooked up. Whatever the case, they had to get to Ostagar. They had to tell the King what had really happened before Rendon Howe could make up some justification for taking Highever. They had to warn Fergus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This purpose was the only thing that kept him going that night. There was the promise of revenge on Howe, that he might be able to thwart his plans by escaping, and it quelled the monstrous voice in his head reminding him that he had run from a battle, leaving his parents to die and his ancestral home to fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the rain stopped he dragged Elissa out from under the overhang and they resumed their journey. She was exhausted and flagging, barely able to stay on her feet, and she complained that he was going to kill her, that he was going to run her to death. She didn’t understand that they couldn’t just huddle in the wet cold forest waiting to freeze to death. It was springtime, and warm during the days, but at night the rain could still easily turn to sleet and the temperatures drop dangerously low. They had no warmth but their lone torch and now that the forest was soaked by the recent deluge there was little hope of finding enough dry wood to start a fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even then, he did not want to stop running so close to Highever. Howe’s men were likely ranging beyond the castle looking for them. They had to keep moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning they found an abandoned shack in the woods and collapsed there for a time. There was nothing to eat, but enough wood was still dry on the inside that Aedan was able to start a fire from bits of broken floorboards and furniture. They warmed themselves and dried their clothes, but their bellies ached with hunger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey south was a harrowing one. Elissa had never done anything like this and truth be told neither had he. Any time he’d gone out ranging with Fergus and their men it had been a well-prepared hunting party. That was very different than fleeing on foot in the middle of the night with only the clothes, armor, and weapons they’d thrown on hurriedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eleanor had shed her armor, giving it to Elissa. Aedan had averted his eyes while the women switched clothes, and he had listened to his father’s dying instructions even while dwelling on the horrific realization that Eleanor was going to try holding off Howe’s men wearing only the flimsy fashionable riding outfit. She also gave Elissa the Cousland family sword, though his sister had no idea what to do with it. She held it limply, like it was impossibly heavy, and perhaps for her it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they were far enough south Aedan dared to venture out onto the road. He did not want to get into a fight, not with Elissa serving only as vulnerable deadweight. But they needed to catch up to Fergus quickly, and the woods made for slow travel. They also needed food, more than the berries they’d managed to forage from bushes in the woods, but he didn’t have the patience for hunting. Hunting with a broadsword was impractical, as it was difficult to sneak up close enough to an animal to kill it that way. He was no ranger, and he didn’t have a bow and arrow or throwing knives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So they stopped at small farms along the way and tried to beg or steal. They did not want to reveal their true identities, paranoid that everyone was in league with Howe or would at least rat them out for a small reward. After roughing it in the woods for so many days they looked too bedraggled and rough to be mistaken for nobles, their fine clothes quickly turning to tatters as they were muddied and snagged by thorns. Their weapons gave them the look of bandits, and so at times it was just easier to play the bandit and menace the poor smallfolk into giving up their stores.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they got to Lothering, Elissa was so exhausted and disconsolate that she refused to go on. “Let me stay here,” she begged him, as they sheltered under the highway. “There’s a Chanty here. I will beg for shelter there. They cannot turn me away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to leave her there, convinced she would be found and killed by Howe. But at the same time, the idea of not having to carry her weight or worry over her death was appealing. He knew he could get to Ostgar quicker with just him and his hound. But would Mother and Father ever forgive him if he abandoned Elissa, now? He had never disobeyed them before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It turned out to matter little what his conscience said. Elissa refused to go on. He could not make her move another foot beyond that village. So he went to the Chantry with her just to make sure she was safely received by the Sisters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They decided to be honest about her identity because they trusted that the Chantry would recognize the grievous wrong Howe had committed and would never give her up, no matter what bounty Howe might have placed on her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan had wondered if Rendon Howe even wanted Elisssa dead, or still had plans to marry her to his son, thus lending some thin veneer of legitimacy to the takeover of Highever. Aedan understood quite well the fact that Elissa was the most valuable Cousland between the two of them, a pawn to be married to whomever wanted the prestige of the Cousland bloodline. If she was not to be married to his son, Rendon Howe would most definitely want her dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Revered Mother did take Elissa in, just as they’d hoped, and listened to their story of betrayal and woe with a grave expression. She agreed to keep the secret of Elissa’s identity, and suggested calling her by a different name. And so Elissa became Brianna.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan found himself alone with Calenhad as he left Lothering, and he tried to assure himself that it was for the best. He wasn’t sure what had come over him that he should feel so anxious about leaving his sister behind. She would be perfectly safe in the Chantry. Surely Howe wasn’t mad enough to attack a Chantry, even if he did somehow find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never felt particularly close to his twin sister. They were just too different and she was too irritating for him to ever have enjoyed her company. He shook himself out of this newfound separation anxiety, and was glad to still have Calenhad. Aedan honestly did not know what he’d have done if his hound had died during the attack. He would never have admitted it to Elissa, but privately he was sure that without Calenhad they would have died that first night in the woods outside Highever, too cold and despairing to move on from the outcropping of rock.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was halfway to Ostagar when he met refugees fleeing north, carrying with them stories of a terrible battle that had gone all wrong. Chasind warriors and the King’s soldiers alike told him to turn back, to turn away from the road south, to abandon any hope of reaching the Wilds. The Darkspawn were coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also found out that the King was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not stop going just for that, however. He kept going south because all he could think about was finding Fergus. None of the soldiers he met on the road were from Highever and no one could tell him anything about his brother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not until he encountered the Grey Wardens that he lost hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came upon them fighting off Darkspawn, and his terror at the sight of the monsters almost seized him up entirely. But Calenhad leapt fearlessly into the fray and that shamed him into rushing also to aid the Wardens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew they were Wardens because he recognized the two mages from Kinloch Hold. He didn’t remember their names, but he knew their faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were traveling with two dwarves, a male with fiery red hair and a braided beard who carried a hammer, and a female with odd tattoos on her face and a shaved head. After he helped them finish off the darkspawn they were battling, he learned that these were also new recruits. They told him the rest of their order had been obliterated at Ostagar and they’d only escape because, being the most junior members of the order, they had been stationed in the back. As it was, they’d barely escaped with their lives once it became apparent that no one was giving orders anymore and the battle had turned into a slaughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ser Roderick Gilmore?” he asked, though he felt he already knew the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged uncomfortable glances, and then the elven mage said, “Dead. I’m sorry. And the Knight, Ser Jory, as well. Everyone, really. We’re all that’s left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders slumped. Ser Roderick had been a good man, a good friend, a good warrior. It wasn’t right. None of it was right. He didn’t ask how; he was sure they had both fallen bravely in battle, doing Highever proud, but it hardly mattered. The battle was lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what became of my brother’s forces?” he asked. They had marched south to Ostagar with Fergus, surely they had formed some manner of bond with the men of Highever and would know what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human mage shook her head, again with that apologetic look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to collapse there, on that weedy patch of road. He wanted to just give up. Mother, Father, Fergus, and Ser Roderick… all dead. The King, dead. All the Grey Wardens, besides this handful of new recruits, dead. The armies of Ferelden… defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sure of two things at that terrible moment. The first, that he would never have justice for his family, because there was no one to petition. The King was dead; Ferelden had no King. The second was that if the Darkspawn were already so powerful that they could route the King’s armies and the Grey Wardens together, it might not matter. He hated Howe for attacking Highever, for choosing treachery over duty in the face of a Blight. Who knows if that would have made the difference…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The male dwarf was talking, now, and it barely registered at first. But then Aedan realized that he was describing the battle, how it had all gone terribly wrong. Something to do with a beacon that was lit too late, about the confusion that beset them all when part of the forces retreated. No one was quite sure what had gone wrong, but the King’s General, Loghain Mac Tir, had pulled his forces back and left the vanguard and the Grey Wardens to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re heading north,” said the male dwarf. He seemed to be the leader of this small group, as far as Aedan could tell. He spoke with authority and confidence despite the confusion and horror of their circumstances. “We’ll regroup in Lothering, decide what to do from there. None of us can go back where we came from before the Wardens. Our Commander is dead, we saw him go down. But maybe there are other stragglers, other small groups of survivors like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan heard this and realized that if Fergus and all the men from Highever were dead there was no reason to go south anymore. He thought perhaps he should go anyway, to be sure, to search the battlefield for corpses himself. But from the sound of it, if there were any survivors they were all fleeing north anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go with you to Lothering,” he said. He remembered how Ser Duncan, the Commander of the Grey, had been so keen on recruiting him, and had settled on Ser Roderick as his second choice. It seemed like destiny that he should meet the last surviving Grey Wardens on the road. “Maybe we can stick together,” he offered. “We can help each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem pretty good with that sword,” said the dwarf. “I don’t object.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a little late to agree to join the Wardens,” said the elven mage. What had her name been, again? Nel- something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? There’s four of you left now. Seems a little late to be getting picky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant, there’s no Wardens left. We don’t count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve had our Joinings,” objected the dwarf. “We’re full members of the Order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joining?” Aedan echoed. It was not a term he remembered Ser Duncan using.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, right. Super secret Warden ritual,” said the dwarf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care about their secrets,” said the human mage. He remembered her name, now. Solomae. She had a figure that had drawn his eye while she was at Highever. He wasn’t really thinking about her that way, now, except from force of habit. But she was the more attractive of the two mages and that had made her name stick in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of it matters,” she was saying. “They make you go out and kill darkspawn and then drink their blood before you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a Warden. Before that you’re a poor slob with a 50/50 chance of surviving or dying right away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not just darkspawn blood, it’s a potion, a blood magic ritual,” said the elf, with some pointed measure of vindictiveness he did not quite understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t sound right,” said Aedan. “The Grey Wardens are a highly respected, noble order of warriors sworn to protect the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And sometimes that requires drinking darkspawn blood and seeing if it kills you.” It was the female dwarf, speaking for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan grew impatient. “What does any of this have to do with us traveling to Lothering together? Do you want me to get down and suck some blood out of those darkspawn corpses to prove myself, or…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thick,” said the elf disdainfully. “I just said it’s a special potion. We don’t know how to make it or what goes in it, besides the blood and some lyrium, so we couldn’t put you through the Joining even if we wanted to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, then I’ll travel with you as a non-Warden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already said that’s fine by me. We need every sword we can get, Warden or no,” said the dwarf. The others just shrugged their assent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan finally learned their names and committed them all to memory as they traveled north, back the way he had just come. The dwarves were Duran and Natia, the elven mage Nelmirea. Solomae called her Nelly but this seemed strictly a privilege of hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was operating on instinct by throwing his lot in with the Wardens. He was filled with a newfound paranoia after the attack on his family, and he did not know who he could trust among the noble houses of Ferelden. But the Grey Warden order was trustworthy, were they not? They had to be. And now that the King was dead and countless others, he needed to choose his allies wisely. These Wardens, recent recruits though they may be, would be integral in combating the Blight. It might be prudent to throw in his lot with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they returned to Lothering they were in for a rude awakening. In the time Aedan had left, Loghain Mac Tir had declared the Grey Wardens to be traitors and blamed them for the death of King Cailan and the defeat at Ostagar. There were wanted posters nailed to the Chanter’s board, with a drawing of the Warden insignia in place of any single face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan did not believe it for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> occurred to him that these four were cowardly to flee from the battle rather than stand and fight, choosing self-preservation over the Warden code of Sacrifice. But the same could be said for him, escaping Highever instead of defending his family home to the last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In any event, he could hardly imagine them masterminding the death of the King. Why in the name of Andraste would </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grey Wardens</span>
  </em>
  <span> ever allow the victory of darkspawn? It made no sense. If Loghain thought to blame Ser Duncan, as shocking as that was, the man was already dead along with any senior Wardens and co-conspirators. Aedan did not see what point there was in laying blame at the feet of brand new recruits. Two dwarves who had never even been to the surface until joining the Wardens and two mages who had likewise just come from the Circle would not have had the opportunity or motivation to plot the downfall of the Fereldan King. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did make a horrible sort of sense was that Loghain Mac Tir himself had betrayed the King. His own daughter, Anora, had been married to King Cailan and was now a widow, so Loghain had declared her the de facto leader and named himself Regent. It was such a bald power move that hearing this news took Aedan’s breath away. In the absence of any siblings or children, Cailan’s widow would indeed be the only one with any claim to the throne one might consider legitimate, though it was unorthodox enough that a Landsmeet surely would need to be called to officially declare her Queen in her own right. Until then she was simply Cailan’s consort. But Loghain as Regent? After he quit the field of battle and let his King be killed? Did no one else see the problem with this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps others did, but no one had the power to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Wardens were forced to keep a low profile in Lothering, worrying that publicly declaring themselves Wardens would lead to trouble, since they were now officially wanted for treason. Aedan left them to discuss what they were going to do about this unfortunate new ripple and went to the Chantry to find Elissa.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he found her, she was dressed in Chantry robes, her dark hair covered by a whimple. He realized he was going to have to tell her the dire news about Fergus’ chances of surviving the carnage at Ostagar, before he’d even had a chance to process it himself. It had been only two days since he had left her behind, as it had not taken him long down the road to Ostagar to meet the Wardens and realize he must turn back. She looked better though, having had a chance to rest two nights indoors and eat the Chantry’s food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was with another laysister when he found her, a red-headed woman with an Orlesian accent. He wanted some privacy, carefully calling her Brianna, but Elissa told him that it was alright, he could speak freely, that she had told “Leliana” everything. He could have sighed and reprimanded her for being too trusting, but here he was with four new friends who knew his true identity, so it seemed it would be hard to keep on pretending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elissa did not take the news well. She burst into fresh tears, and her new friend Leliana was there to comfort her while Aedan just stared stoically ahead. He didn’t get to cry about it. Fergus would have told him that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We must leave Lothering soon,” he told her. “With Ostagar fallen it’s only a matter of time before the darkspawn overrun this place. It has no defenses. I wish you could stay here, but… I don’t think anyone should be staying here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where will we go?” Elissa asked, sniffling. She looked between him and her new friend, Leliana, helplessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve met some Grey Wardens on the road,” he said. “Some of the same ones who visited us at Highever. I’m thinking we should throw our lot in with them. They’ve made an enemy of General Loghain, but I’m beginning to think he’s as faithless as Rendon Howe. I don’t know how deep the conspiracy goes, but I suspect Loghain and Howe both see the Blight as an opportunity for treachery rather than a true threat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was rambling, he knew, giving his sister more information than she could handle. But the Laysister was listening with a keen look in her eyes. She nodded, and said, “I will go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to do that,” he said, giving her an appraising look. “You should go to your Revered Mother and talk to her about evacuating this town. And I think you would be safer with the Templars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she disagreed, her tone not condescending, but dismissive all the same. “I must leave with you. I have seen it, I know that I must also go with the Wardens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve seen it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I had a vision,” she told him, so matter-of-fact. “The Maker showed me the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmmm.” He didn’t know what else to say. He was Andrastan, but the idea of some random laysister from a backwater village like Lothering receiving visions from the Maker? Unlikely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like you to come with us,” said Elissa. “I’d feel safer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan bristled at that. Safer? He’d been protecting her ever since Highever, and while yes he had believed she’d be safeter behind the Chantry’s walls, it was the Templars not some red-headed Maker-touched Laysister who would have kept her safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something of these thoughts must have registered on his face, because Leliana said, “I have not always been here at the Chantry, you know. I can handle myself in a fight. I have been showing your sister a few ways to defend herself. That giant sword does not suit her, so I have given her some smaller knives. You see, there is more than one way to be deadly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you can fight then by all means, the more the merrier,” he said, and it came out a bit more sarcastic and defensive than he really meant it. He was just so tired of making decisions, and truth be told he didn’t care, so long as his sister did not end up dead or a prisoner of Howe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But where are we going?” Elissa asked again. “You want to follow the Wardens, but where are they taking us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know yet. We’re still figuring it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We? Did you join them after all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused. “Not officially,” he said, “because their leadership is gone. But maybe. Maybe I will help them rebuild their order. It might be the only path left to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought she might argue or belittle him, but instead she just nodded. She wiped the tears from her face, and a quiet, thin, determined look came over her. She pressed her lips into a line, and then said, “I just want everyone who did this to pay. Howe, Loghain, anyone responsible for our family dying. They must face justice. These darkspawn are mindless beasts but it’s men who have brought ruin upon our world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in the Maker’s hands, now,” said Leliana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aedan shook his head. “The Maker has turned his back on us,” he told them, bitterly. “Andraste doesn’t give a shit about us. We’re on our own.”</span>
</p>
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